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<title>The quiet affection in the loud ordinary days of the past by tenderfirstlove</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551976">The quiet affection in the loud ordinary days of the past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderfirstlove/pseuds/tenderfirstlove'>tenderfirstlove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Byleth and the Goddess Sothis. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Fever Dreams, Gen, Good Parent Jeralt Reus Eisner, HER NAME IS FINALLY REVEALED FUCKIN SITRI, Sickfic, [&lt;-- edit]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:49:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderfirstlove/pseuds/tenderfirstlove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During a cold Spring morning, a fever stricken Byleth is tended to by his soft father, who possess too rough a hands in comparison to his gentle interior.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeralt Reus Eisner &amp; My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner/My Unit | Byleth's Mother, My Unit | Byleth &amp; Sothis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of Byleth and the Goddess Sothis. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The quiet affection in the loud ordinary days of the past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>EDIT: ok....... her name is canonically sitri so i changed it...... also shes pretty  :(</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a cool Spring morning that day, the winds that whistled through the window cracks had softly caressed Byleth's own burning skin.It was then that through his laboured breaths he felt a cold ghostly palm on his forehead, and soon felt it shift to his cheeks, knuckles gently riding down the slope of his nose. Letting out a weak and forceless cough he cleared his throat wearily. </p><p>"Sothis..?"</p><p>He opened his eyes barely, like the crescent moon they were glazed over, watery and full of hazy confusion.</p><p>"No- It's just me, your regular dad. No Goddess here."</p><p>Byleth shut his eyes once more upon hearing his father's soothing voice, the hand on his face now resorted to stroking back his long unequal fringes which were wet with sweat from his forehead. Rough fingers gently pet his hair before there was a cool rag placed upon his forehead, to which Byleth let out a pleased hum.</p><p>"You know, when you were younger- just a small boy who could still fit within my fur vestments - you called out to the Goddess like you did now..", Jeralt spoke softly, his aged voice full of affection as he looked upon his fevered child, "You kept on mumbling into my chest, repeating 'Sothy' over and over."</p><p>He smiled remembering how small his teal-haired boy used to be, his delicate hands being dwarfed by his own worked and stiff ones. He remembered the first time Byleth came over to his tent after gaining his own, to burrow into his side like a small hedgehog vying for warmth. He remembered when Byleth came back from collecting some twigs for the fire with one of his own men, cradling a small four-leafed clover. </p><p><em>"Look. Look-", </em>he'd say as he tugged on Jeralt's tunic persistently, <em>"Raphael and I found a clover. He told me that it brings luck to people who find one..but I don't want any luck anyway..</em></p><p>
  <em>"So I want to give my luck to you, because I don't want you to get hurt again when you leave.."</em>
</p><p>Jeralt remembered laughing at his son as he drew him in for a tight hug that night, and he could still hear the panicked grumbling coming from him when he saw the flower had crinkled in his closed fist.</p><p>
  <em>"Don't worry, Byleth, I don't need a clover to keep me safe. Just knowing you're thinking of your dad is more than enough for me." </em>
</p><p>Though that was the night he awoke to find Byleth burrow into his side roughly, trying to seemingly drown out everything else with the warmth of his father.</p><p>"<em>Don't go." </em></p><p>Jeralt would stiffen like a brick in a wall at the unusually emotional voice his son held, he'd rub his back and cradle him into his chest. Rubbing his hair softly, until he fell lax against his hold. Then he'd lay back down, and wait for morning to come with a blanket over them both.</p><p>"Dad..?", the same croaking voice called out now in its fever haze.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>Byleth shifted, turning on his side to face Jeralt with hooded, tired eyes, "Tell me a story.. like you used to." </p><p>Jeralt smiled passively, repositioning the wet towel on Byleth's pale forehead before shifting closer to his son. </p><p>"Alright, but just one, and then you need to promise me to get some rest."</p><p>A voice hummed, muffled behind blankets and illness. </p><p>"Okay.. this is a story of a green-haired woman, who had a smile that shone as bright as the full moon", Jeralt began softly, describing his late love, he had always remembered her as kind as she first met him.</p><p>"She had a loving voice and a firm grip on her tomes, her heart did not beat but that never mattered because it was golden anyway..", he'd reminisced of her sweet words and letters, the curve of each grapheme and the arch of every vowel she wrote in his name, the softest parchment he has ever felt had come from her though she'd never tell where she's found it- she said she preferred the rough texture of the letters Jeralt sent anyway.</p><p>She loved the texture because it reminded her of his own rough hands, the scribbly and scrawny form of his letters, the tender pressure she could see he tried to exert from the occasional bleeding of the feather he wrote with on the other side of the paper. The roughly folded uneven parchment being shut with a messy wax stamp of his initials which constructed with her own neat and careful folding and tying with a ribbon. </p><p>"The woman was called Sitri, like the legend of old, her journey started when she stumbled upon a young sandy-haired man in the vegetable store..."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hate ao3 mobile i can't add tags that don't exist.......</p><p>also no..... i just love celica as a character n as a name i think its rlly pretty and just like the sound of it... </p><p>as u can tell its now 2am n i just wrote this n i oop ... i also gave Byleth's mother a penchant for calligraphy haha :")) idk im soft goodnight</p></blockquote></div></div>
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